"The Chandos' are all lit up, and having a grand party," remarked Mr. Lepell. "There was a gharry at the door just now. Out here, we live in our neighbours' pockets, you see." "I saw such a tragedy there to-day," observed his wife, sitting up and leaning forward, "something that haunts me; a lovely girl"--here she paused and sighed. "I've not the slightest objection to her haunting _me_," cried Major Gale, with a snigger. "Pray go on." "I called on the Chandos family, or rather on the daughter from England." "Oh, by-the-way, yes," interrupted Major Gale, with sudden animation, "I saw her yesterday at the station with the old boy. He looked as if he did not know what on earth to do with her! She is uncommonly handsome, the profile of a cameo, the air of a duchess, and the pride--may I say--of the devil." "Oh, poor girl," exclaimed Mrs. Lepell, with a little fluttering sigh, "she had not seen her relations _then_." "No, I assume not," assented Major Gale, as he tossed away the end of a cigarette. "I give you my word, she is as white as you are, Mrs. Lepell." "That is no compliment, for she has a beautiful complexion," was her generous reply, "and I have been twenty years grizzling in India." "Chandos looked hang-dog, and thoroughly ashamed of himself, as he always does," resumed Major Gale. "An unfortunate man, I am always sorry for him," remarked Mr. Lepell, speaking for the first time. "I happen to know his history." "Oh, really, do you?" ejaculated his guest, with the utmost indifference, selecting, as he spoke, a fresh cigarette. "But what about the girl, Aunt Liz?" said her nephew suddenly, "is she really own sister to my friend Dominga?" "I think so--indeed, what am I saying? Of course she is; she comes between her and Pussy, and by all accounts is the flower of the flock; adopted as an infant by an enormously rich woman--the schoolfellow of Mrs. Lopez." "I cannot believe"--here he laughed--"that Mrs. Lopez ever went to school." "Yes, she did, to Kidderpore. Mrs. Lopez was a beauty once, so was Mrs. Chandos." "I don't admire beauties of that type." "Don't you?" exclaimed Mr. Lepell. "I've seen some lovely Nair women on the West coast, handsomer you could not find; slim and graceful, with wheaten coloured skins and perfect features." "But what about this young lady?" resumed his nephew. "Oh, she was brought up in England by this old Portuguese woman, who died suddenly without a will. And there was nothing for this girl to do but return to her own relations--whose existence she now discovers for the first time!" "Well, I call it a tragedy," exclaimed Brian Salwey, "what do you say, Aunt Liz?"